Slvr & Irn II

[Connor Harrison]

Abandoned Imperial Outpost
Vaal, Vaal System​

The message was shorter than the previous.

”Vaal. Now, please.”

This time it was Connor Harrison who sent the communicae to Keira Ticon of the Mandalorian Clans. Following the visit to Korriban and the diplomatic meeting with the Mandos, things had taken a nasty turn in his eyes.

Diplomatic was a thin word - the Mandos were trusted to arrive on Voss for peace talks and a discussion about a future alliance against the rising Sith threat. However, they spilt blood and the young Ranger bore the brunt of their violent outburst nursing a broken noise.

Connor had to see it again. Without her facade of leader. Without her brutes. Without the eyes of the Grandmaster on him.

This was far from over in his eyes, and he was fed up of standing back as the Jedi were treated like doormats. He was at boiling point, and ready to explode if the wrong button was pushed.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

She had heard it all from Thalia on the way back to Echoy'la. The AI had made certain that Keira knew full well the error of her ways, lecturing her over what could have gone better or worse and what she could have done personally to smooth things over. It was something she didn't need or want to hear, but she had endured the repercussions without complaint, knowing it was nothing in the face of what her brother would likely have to say, along with what Connor would speak to her about when they inevitably convened once again. This had created the perfect stage for open conflict, with tensions running higher than they ever had in the past. Everything was set to explode, but despite her volatile actions previously that was the last thing she wanted.

When the message arrived she was half-tempted to ignore it, but knew that wouldn't benefit either party in the long run. And so, begrudgingly, she had set off for Vaal once more. Just as she had during the talks she donned her armor along with her tomahawk, pistol and two lightsabers, displaying once again that she wasn't afraid to act and do what had to be done for the betterment of her people. Whether he liked it or not things between them had changed after the negotiations, the rift that had been mostly repaired now torn open anew, salt finding itself ground into the wound as well. It pained her, raising her hackles and putting her once more on edge in his presence, uncertain of how to speak with him.

Almost cautiously she approached him, helmet sealed to her armor, rendering her faceless. The way she moved was reminiscent of the predator he hadn't seen emerge in a long while, one fully prepared to stand and fight for what she believed in. Once they were within speaking distance she halted, not uttering any greeting and simply studying him, as if relearning just who the man before her was. Her senses extended outwards to touch on his own presence, the sensation for him comparable to a cold, distant metaphysical touch mulling over just what the relationship between them stood as after what had come of the talks. The first words she spoke didn't quite emerge as an inquiry, but something more akin to a demand, "What the hell do you want, Harrison."

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Watching her arrive again, with far less pleasure than last time at meeting someone he tried to see as a friend, he stood motionless for her landing and deboarding. She was kitted for a fight - not that he was surprised - making his basic tunic and cape look very casual. She came closer, a helmeted face barking out to him. Not wasting a second, he walked to her and slapped the top half of her helmet.

"Come on, get out of there you coward. Or don't you feel tough without your animals backing you up now, hm?"

He looked at her, and hit again.

"Come on!"

Looking her up and down, he scoffed and turned, walking away, looking over the planet from the outpost they were under, shaking his head.

"I want to know what the hell that was back on Voss."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

When he moved to hit her helmet a second time her right hand reached up to clamp around his wrist like a vice, glaring at him from beneath her helmet. Her left hand grabbed him around the throat, the considerably strong cybernetic allowing her to push him back against the wall of the outpost. Her grip was unnaturally strong, just loose enough to allow him to draw enough breath to survive, but barely. With her free hand she pulled her helmet off, it clipping to her belt magnetically. There was a cold fire burning behind her eyes, one that was a hair-trigger away from blowing up entirely. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to spiral into an uncontrollable fight, and she almost wanted that, if just to blow off steam.

"Do not speak to me of cowardice after your unwillingness to act. I would advise you not to goad me, given the position you find yourself in. Learn to hold your tongue, Jedi." Her hand tightened about his throat, and she turned, putting the whole of her strength into throwing him with the cybernetic limb. Keira stalked towards him, stopping again when they were within conversational distance and moving no farther. "You and your people have proven yourselves incapable of handling this. What you need to understand is that sometimes the best decision and the right one are two opposite things. Either figure it out yourselves, or have it handled for you." The fingers of her left hand twitched, but she made no more moves to violence.

"What happened on Voss was the Crusaders making a choice. We put forth our ultimatum. Either you fix this in the way that ensures the long-term safety of the greater galaxy, or you lose our assistance against the Sith. If you want further help from me or my people then you hire us on as mercenaries, just like everyone else." Her voice was a low growl, those promises of violence dredged up and brought directly to the surface. "There's nothing else to talk about. I don't know why you bothered calling this meeting. All you're doing is asking for a fight, and I'm inclined to give you one." The barest tips of her fingers brushed across the handle of her tomahawk, hoping he would make a move and give her an excuse.

"Come on. Do your worst. Or are you still afraid of doing something to fix the problem?"

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

The girl had a grip, that was for sure, but it was artificial, and Connor knew best than to fight a cybernetic limb. He was yanked back, and his throat clamped, and he grunted and hissed getting his breath as they locked eyes.

Let her have her moment….this is her expelling frustration she doesn’t know how else to….

Thrown past her, Connor stumbled forward, gasping for air and rubbing the red neck where he hand had been, pulling the tunic down a little to get his hand in, frowning at her but expecting nothing less as she came forward for her say.

"I never thought you’d be so blind to the bigger picture. Really. I had more faith in you. I don’t know if it’s the way of the Mando that’s bled into your brain or what, but you’ve not talked sense for a long time now."

He glanced down to her primitive tomahawk, noting her teasing of it and wondering how much restraint the Mando actually had.

"What you teasing it for? I thought you were the one who fixed things without hesitation. Use it. The mighty Keria Ticon – failed Jedi, failed Sith. What now? Is this the next façade in your career path? Some primitive leader? Get a grip!"

He turned his hand and called the tomahawk to his palm, spinning it , handle out to her.

"You want to finish it? Finish it. Act tough. Speak brutally. Do all that. Doesn’t wash with me – here," he thrust the weapon out for her, "use this and sort things. Shoe me how much you’ve lost of the Keira Ticon I knew. The one who actually had common sense and thought, once upon a time."

Connor held it out, the metal blade in his hand.

"You know what hurts most? You assuming I won’t or can’t act. When I have I ever…ever…not acted on my word." His voice was low, not trying to preach.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Without hesitation Keira reached out to take up the tomahawk, spinning it once fluidly, her grip on it loose but sure. There was a moment where she seemed to weigh the weapon in her palm, as if taking into consideration the benefits and detriments of burying it in his skull. On the one hand, it would send some kind of message that she'd been wanting to get across, but on the other he was an old friend, and killing him wouldn't really solve much of anything. And so she practiced some measure of restraint, not lashing out at him with the Force-imbued weapon just yet. As tempting as the prospect had become, this needed to be resolved at least semi-peacefully, and spilling such an extensive amount of blood wouldn't achieve that.

"So now you've sunk to what? Some level just as supposedly low as my own? Watch where you tread, Jedi. You might find yourself walking too fine a line." Despite her resignation not to resort to violence immediately the tomahawk still remained in her grip, nothing about the surety of her grasp wavering. "There is no bigger picture. You were offered a choice. You and yours declined it. That's all the farther this extends between our people. If you speak of the galaxy itself, well. We both know what solution will ensure that this war criminal doesn't have a chance of walking free, and we both know that none of you have the gettse to do it." After all, all live was to be preserved, even those that had committed atrocities.

With a sort of predatory grace she moved closer to him. "Tell me, Connor, and be honest. Do you really think the one responsible for what happened on Korriban deserves any kind of long, drawn out trial that you Jedi are so fond of? Do you really believe that she should have even a chance of being pardoned for this? Or do you want her dead just as much as myself and my people do? Because right now you're acting a lot like those Jedi you claim to be so different from. So tell me. Have you really fallen that far from where you used to be?" These were the same questions he had posed to her once upon a time. It was funny, how the tables had turned over the years.

She was halfway between the persona of a warrior and simply herself, in constant flux, it difficult to tell just who was who anymore. "Give me one damn good reason." Her grip shifted on the tomahawk.

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Standing his ground, a solid and stern look on his face, Connor listened to Kiera as she spoke and his fingers and thumbs rubbed together. How he wanted to hurt her; to maim her; to push her to the edge and leave her, all to demonstrate his power. But no…he restrained himself. He controlled it. He had to.

Even with each word she spoke, the frustration in him rose. And as she slinked closer, he turned a little more to grant her the pleasure of being face to face. The proximity feared by many where one move made could signal the end of the other with a blade or hidden weapon, and they wouldn’t even know it.

"I would love to see her necked. End of. Get it done and get rid of her body. I don’t care for her. But you harp on about your brothers and whatever with the Mandos, you wouldn’t betray them would you, regardless of what you thought," he jabbed her chest plate, "so don’t act all high and mighty like you would, or that I should."

He paused. A bird called out high above, watching the two figures below.

"Without any order, there is chaos. I am following the Order I have known all my life. I don’t care if you don’t like it, because I don’t like yours, but you don’t see me disrespecting you by making you break your own faith, you moron."

He looked down at the tomahawk – it was inviting for some reason.

"So yes, I want her dead. But I ain’t letting 10,000 dead people ruin the life I’m living. It’s the only life I know. So I follow the Order. And trust me when I say it’s not going to be drawn out – she’s going down for this. And she’s not coming back from it. Bad things happen to people in Wild Space and Outer Rim prisons. Especially mass murderers. Remember that."

With a smack of his lips, he took her fist gripped around the tomahawk and brought it up, eyes following the dull metal blade, and placed it just above his forehead, touching his hair.

"There’s your damn good reason. So either do it, or trust me and me alone. Your choice."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

"Actually, Harrison," As always, one of them had to have a rebuttal, "That's not always the case. We don't betray our own outright, but if they do something to warrant the mantle of dar'manda we don't hesitate." For a moment Keira paused, taking a breath to steady herself before continuing, "An old mentor of mine, formerly one of the people, was declared soulless by the vode. The majority wanted him dead. Not too long ago, he was killed by one of the Crusaders, my younger brother. As much as it hurt to feel his death and know that one of my people was the culprit, I accepted it. He had it coming. Just like her he'd killed scores of people, but unlike her he paid for it." That had been Kezeroth, one he had met only once before.

His commentary in regards to order and chaos brought a wry smile to her lips. "There can be order without stagnation, though that is something you Jedi seem to have forgotten. Sometimes you have to break past the dogma you've been spoon fed your entire life. You're the one always telling me you're willing to do what the rest of them won't or can't, but this isn't help proving your point any. All I'm seeing is a Jedi too afraid to break out of his shell and be as unique as he says he is. If you want to be such a catalyst for change, then start where you are now." It was funny, to her, listening to him preach and prattle on about one thing yet seem to hold true conviction for something completely opposite in another.

"All I'm hearing is that you couldn't care less for those ten thousand dead. You care more for your own people and protecting your own than you do those innocent lives you supposedly pledge yourselves to protect." In her eyes he was turning his back on the Code he was seemingly so dedicated to. Even someone like her, with such skewed morality, had a better grasp on things than that. "So what you're saying is that you believe a life in prison on some Outer Rim or Wild Space planet is a fair penance for this. She isn't going to learn anything. If she truly feels so terrible for her actions, for the tragedy she caused, then maybe she should have given it a second thought before she pulled the trigger." There was no room for mercy, or any form of perceived leniency.

Her hand twitched slightly when he brought the tomahawk up to his head, but she didn't move to embed it there permanently. Instead she simply drew the razor's edge of the blade down his forehead in a single sharp cut, one not meant to cause extensive damage but rather to draw blood and leave some kind of scar, a lasting reminder of all that had happened. Instantly she lashed out with a punch towards his jaw with her right hand, one that would hopefully knock something loose. "Don't preach to me."

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Why wasn’t she listening. She was infuriating him more and more, even with the blade by his head, he knew she wouldn’t strike. But her blind vision to the Jedi was tainting her thoughts and her assumptions, and tarring Connor with a brush he didn’t like.

To be under-estimated, to be mocked and near laughed at.

Keira drew first blood, and he hissed as the cut was made, partly expecting it rather than being bludgeoned to death. Her free hand came up for a punch; after years of receiving such punches, this time he was ready for her usual Harrison swipe.

Catching her balled fist in his, he gritted his teeth and twisted her arm back on itself to force her down a little, and snatched the tomahawk from her grasp and made his move quickly. He swiped the blade upwards like a knife through hot butter under her chin, across the skin and off at a tangent, the contour of his jaw letting the blade slip off as hers did.

Fresh blood drawn. His blood was wet down his face, running over the contour of his eye socket and nose. His eyes clouded with that grey mist he hadn’t had for a long time.

"Do not under-estimate me again. And don’t you dare label me as one not willing to do what I have to do."

He squeezed her hand that was still in his harder.

"You don’t want me as an enemy, Keira, not now. Leave Charzon Loulan to ME."

Another hard squeeze and then he raised his boot her chest, in a kick to push her backwards away from him, landing on her backside.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

The relatively shallow cut across her throat drew a hiss of pain from her, though not much else, as in comparison to what she had suffered in the past this wound was entirely superficial. His kick caused her to stumble back, but she managed to regain her balance. In the next moment there was no longer any doubt which aspect of herself she represented, the predator and warrior both now having come out to play, two sides of herself that made for a deadly combination. There was something of an amber hue to her otherwise dark eyes, one that always resided below the surface but rarely ever emerged for an extensive amount of time. Here and now he'd provoked the wrong side of her, something Keira would make certain he was well aware of.

"Your morality isn't going to save you, Jedi." It was evident she was no longer looking at him as who he was, or even as a fellow person. No, he was a target, and one she knew full well she was capable of bringing down with enough persistence. Her gaze glanced to the tomahawk he held and back up to him, a crooked, teasing smile spreading across her face. A quiet, mirthful laugh escaped her, one that harbored the same utter carelessness it had when she was younger and far more unstable. "You going to fight like one of us now? C'mon, you've got the weapon, go ahead and use it. If you're so much better than us, go ahead and prove it, you chakaaryc Jetii." Keira was goading him, pushing him to attack and make a mistake.

Reaching up she examined the cut, gloved fingers coming away crimson. That seemed to spark the true beginning of a fight in her, and without warning she darted towards him, the entirety of her form a blur. At the last moment her lightsaber snapped into her palm and ignited, orange blade flashing out towards the arm that was holding the tomahawk in order to disarm him - literally. More than anything she wanted to leave him with a reminder of this day, and leave him something that would remind him of why it wasn't wise to mess with Mandalorians. If there was one thing he did it was talk too much, and this was her move to get him to shut up. "You can't afford me as an enemy, shabuir."

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

His breathing was deep and heavy, and he wiped his face with the back of his tunic, smearing it with his blood and she licked the wound of her own, clearly goading and enjoying the moment. Connor had seen this a thousand times.

This was not going to be a repeat of what happened before.

Always looking down on him.

Always insulting him.

Always mocking him.

Always ridiculing him for being…him.

Never listening.

She ran, the orange blade of her saber sparking to life with her cry – she was out to kill, but he wasn’t going to die today. Her movement was a blur before she was upon him with the orange blade in hand in close proximity.

He turned, the Force as his ally, working against Keira’s speed to match it, and arching away from her as best he could before he fell to the ground, tomahawk still in hand, but his clothing burnt away and sizzled. Glancing down at the burns, he then shot a look back up to the possessed Mando.

"So you want to kill me now, is that your answer?!"

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

That she had made a hit was enough for her, but Keira knew she couldn't waste the opportunity and allow him to recover. What she needed to was strike, and now, before he regained his footing. Her hand stretched out in order to telekinetically wrench the tomahawk from his grip, and in the next breath she threw her hand forward, a wave of energy rippling outwards that would throw him solidly into the wall of the outpost. Again she moved forward at a blur, disengaging her saber and holding the tomahawk in her off hand, punching towards his chest with her cybernetic limb. If it connected in full it would more than break bone, caving his ribs and sternum inwards on themselves, dealing internal damage as well.

Immediately she distanced herself, pulling the pistol holstered at her waist and firing one of the thermite gel canisters downrange towards him. Upon contact it would burst into flame immediately, the fire not quelling until the napalm gel burnt itself out. This was her method of combat at its most brutally efficient, lending no quarter and not allowing him any breathing room. It was a strategy she had utilized countless times before on the battlefield, and it was one that oftentimes proved more than enough to overwhelm the enemy and grant her an easy win. It was that much she was hoping for here, knowing that her method of combat was far less refined than his own. But that was what lent her a special touch against Jedi of his caliber.

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

In one heartbeat, the tomahawk flew out of his hand.

In the next, he was kicked back by an invisible boot that slammed him into the stone wall of the outpost.

Wincing, he felt his muscles tighten as Keira came for another hit and it landed square in the torso. Connor cried out and his legs didn't get chance to straighten when the pain struck and a crack sounded. As his inhaled, it was staggered and it was sharp. Reaching up, he heard a small bang, and a flammable gel exploded on his chest.

Batting the fire that was fueled by the gel, he seethed and pulled open his tunic, tearing it apart and letting the burning smoulder drift down. He swallowed, reaching a hand down on the ground to stable him, half his tunic gone from the chest, and a pain stabbing him in the ribs with each inhale.

He looked up at her on his knees, breathing staggered, the sounds of an uncomfortable pain escaping his lips. He winced again and his head fell, hand on chest to fight the pain and help find that broken bone to mend as best he could.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Her pace in approaching him this time around was far more leisurely, the tomahawk once more hanging at her hip, hands free of any immediate weaponry. Now that he was down he posed far less of a concern, but Keira knew better than to fully discount an enemy until they were out of the fight completely. And so again she raised him up with her left hand about his throat, holding him there against the wall and taking in his bruised and broken form for all that it was, almost as if she was memorizing it to reflect on pleasantly later. The cybernetic tightened around his throat to both get his attention and inflict further pain. This wasn't quite over yet, but the fight had already reached its climax, and a part of her was already growing bored.

"I want you to remember this as the day you lost, Connor. As the day you weren't as strong as you always claim to be. And there's one valuable lesson that I don't want you to ever forget, something I want you to pass on to your Grandmaster," Her grip around his throat once again tightened just slightly, her voice lowering to a deadly growl, "Don't mess with Mandalorians." With that she would knock his head back against the wall, and assuming he was unconscious would let his body fall, reaching down to grab his commlink and activate the distress beacon, one that she knew would lead the Silvers directly to where he lay. For a moment she looked down at him, the fire behind her eyes replaced with cold stone.

Turning, she pulled her helmet on, having finished what she came here for. Now it was back to Echoy'la, to await the retaliation from these so-called 'warriors of the Light.'

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

He didn't fight the grip...it had been one he'd felt many times. Gentle breathing, calm the nerves - relax.

Her cybernetic grip would sure leave a nasty bruise, and he didn't fight her, even when she threw him back and he crashed into the stone wall again, crumpling down and onto his stomach with a groan.

The healing process had helped a little with the bone, starting to fuse the broken ribs so they weren't as sharp. His arm was tingling from the burn, and his head throbbed. Connor heard her say something about the Mandalorian and Grandmaster, but he cared not for either. He heard something fall beside him, and gradually he lifted his head to see a com, and her figure standing, before walking away.

There was no other answer. He was not going to be the one that people walked away from in a fight. Matsu. Sage. Haytham. Aika. Orcus. Not anymore.

His hand reached out and silenced the com.

Kneeling up, his eyes narrow and burning with hate, Connor pushed into the ground and launched at her, the target already plotted.

She could be fast. He could be faster. He didn't hold back for fear or hesitation.

In one fluid motion he charged at her, called the tomahawk from her side and reversed his grip on the weapon.

With his left hand he yanked her neck back, helmet heavy for a disorientating manouever, and with his right hand he went for it - he impaled the hatchet up into her back and did it as hard as he could. He held it there for seconds, feeling her body tight on his, breathing hard into her neck with the force exerted. Connor pushed it again.

He didn't feel bad, hand gripped on her neck and on the tomahawk. He hoped it hurt. He hoped it had done damage. This wans't Keria. This was everything that had done this to him.

Seconds passed until he yanked it out and downward slicing to the back of her right thigh.

She had drawn first blood today. She had done this.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

The tomahawk didn't pierce the armor completely, phrik plating halting the progress of the weapon far better than simple flesh or bone, though it still cut through enough to cause considerable pain. Thankfully the plating didn't crack completely, but repairs were still most definitely necessary. The cut across the back of her right thigh was another thing altogether, with the bladed edge cutting through a fraction of the plating but ultimately doing nothing more than sparking against the cybernetic that had replaced the organic limb months ago. Her body remained tense for a few moments longer before the tomahawk was pulled free, and instead of crying out she did the one thing her old mentor had quite literally beaten into her: draw on that pain for strength.

A rush of dark energy flooded her, supplying a form of adrenaline rush far more unnatural than anything the physical realm itself could produce. In the same second his strikes with the tomahawk ceased he would find himself held entirely still in a vice grip, unable to move a single muscle. Without a word Keira would exert a portion of her power on his hand that was holding the tomahawk, crushing each bone within the appendage to splinters with a slow application of pressure, being certain he felt every nuance of pain. Suddenly she would turn, right palm out, throwing him for the third time back into the wall and this time holding him there with her telekinetic strength that was at its apex in comparison to what her cybernetic was capable of.

"Listen carefully, because I'm going to say this nice and slow," She twisted her right hand slightly, re-breaking the ribs he had already partially healed, cracking his collarbone as well but not breaking it completely, "This can either end now, or," Her hand clenched into a partial fist, crushing his kneecap, "I can break every bone in your body and leave you here to die," No further injury would be inflicted just yet, but he would feel a pressure internally on his very lungs and heart, "Go ahead and make your choice, Jedi. Give me an excuse."

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Cursing himself at the discovery that her armour was suffice to stop and her cybernetic leg simply sparked, Connor drew inward during the assault that followed.

He cried out at the broken right hand, and didn’t have time to heal before he was thrown back into the outpost and the next set of bones broke – ribs, collarbone, kneecap.

Feeling the pressure inside, he pulled his head up to look at the masked, faceless Mando. Another threat to him and another show of her power. This wasn’t Keira anymore. She had to be stopped.

Letting his eyes closed, Connor let her hold him as he withdrew to a memory years before the Silver Jedi; the memory of Kyra Sol in the junkyard. The memory of the Force Shatterpoint she had created and one he had practiced since.

Connor embraced the lust for violence, the rage and the darkness inside him fuelled by the Korriban affair.

He reached for her armour with the Force as she used her power to hold him, the pressure swelling on his chest, and he found the chink from the tomahawk. As if letting his astral spirit go beyond his physical form, he pushed out with the Force to channel into the weak point, violently reacting as he pushed harder.

Giving it his all, beyond the pain, eyes glazed with mist, Connor pushed out with the Force in a final focused burst to shatter the weakpoint of her armour and effectively shatter it from her body in hard, heavy tears and cracks.

Feeding from the darkness he pushed out with his left hand and let her continue the hold and put all his physical energy into that burning heat of Force Lightning that erupted from his hand towards her in an arc not used since Darth Arcanix.

He cried out in rage, pain and hate – he pushed and pushed with the intent to kiil, to burn, to maim, to destroy. He used the pain to fuel the hate he felt and didn’t hold back to destroy her before she got away again.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

The crack of the armor as it broke across her back caused her to stumble, scraps of phrik burying themselves into her skin and drawing a cry of pain from her. Initially the lightning he threw made full contact, causing her to release her telekinetic hold on him and fall to her knees. Slowly she raised her hands, arms trembling, the electricity slowly finding itself pulled towards them as she began absorbing the energy. Indescribable pain thrummed through her initially, it eventually dulling to simple numbness throughout her organic limb. When the attack ceased Keira slowly pushed herself to her feet, legs weak underneath her like a newborn foal, the fact that she was still able to stand on her own a miracle in and of itself.

Her breathing was ragged, scorch marks littering her armor and shrapnel embedded in her back, pain coursing through her entire body. Slowly she pulled the entirety of that suffering into her core, seizing him again in that invisible grip. There was no way she would be capable of managing what she had before he struck, but she had made a promise and was hellbent on backing it up. Her hand closed into a fist, all of that sheer hatred focused on him entirely, the intensity of it unlike anything that she had experienced before. It was an intense euphoria only those immersed in the dark would understand, and one that most Jedi feared to utilize for themselves.

Upon the closing of her fist that vice snapped shut instantaneously, one that would completely shatter the bones in his legs like glass, a finishing move intended to bring things to an end regardless of the brutality required to do so. "It's over, Jedi. You've lost."

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

The sound and sight of her suffering granted him the ability to crack a smirk - that was good. He'd have that, considering how mangled he was.

And then, the grip came again in his right leg, like an intense pressure was swelling inside the bone he couldn't stop. Gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into the ground, he just stared at her waiting for it to happen....and her fist closed and the bones shattered with a pop. It was satisfying at first as the pressure escaped but the pain shot through him like a bolt.

It took him minutes, shouting into the ground, intense sweat dripping from his brow, his torso shaking with frustration. It was a mess, on both sides. Trembling, he looked up at her, resting on his elbow, too weak to continue.

"No," he said loudly, "you've not seen anything yet - Mando."

With that, he slumped down, rolling onto his back and started to focus on breathing and calming himself. This was not over - not by a long shot. Broken rib, collarbone, hand and leg. He'd need a good story to cover this up and avoid a war.

[member="Keira Ticon"]